Honest Mistake Part 1
by Sweetheart-Holmes
Summary: Sherlock wakes to find himself in unfamiliar surroundings. His feelings for John are stronger then ever but someone else has come between them. The question is... how did this all happen? Was it really an honest mistake or did Sherlock know what he was doing?


Sherlock sat on the edge of the bed smoking, the cigarette was held lightly in his hand and he watched the smoke trail from out of his mouth. The smoke was cloudy and hazy much like his memory of the night before. He stretched his back and then rubbed his face, blinking his eyes and willing himself awake. With a yawn he inhaled deeply and the smoke filled his lungs, looking around he didn't recognise the room. The wallpaper was bland and an embossed flower pattern trickled down the wall methodically, much like water. He did not like the pattern; it was mediocre and typical of a woman's bedroom.

The thought struck him, _woman's_ bedroom. The last thing Sherlock remembered from the night before was the smile on John's face when he walked into the crowded bar. From beneath the table Sherlock stroked John's soft large hand and they looked at each other knowingly. As if, for in those moments they were the only two people in the world who knew their secret and felt the way they did. Sherlock's stomach flipped when he saw John, when John would whisper his name or trail a hand along his stubbled cheek.

Yet somehow in this moment everything was wrong, off. Sherlock's heart began to race, hammering in his chest at full speed. He closed his eyes, this was a mistake 'you're still drunk you idiot,' he mumbled.

Someone behind Sherlock stirred, he stiffened and stubbed out the cigarette on the broken, dirty ashtray to his right. He didn't turn around, perhaps he was nervous but more likely he was terrified of who it was he had slept next to. There was no point denying he had done the wrong thing, it was simple and Sherlock had deduced the entire situation in only seconds. The sheets were wrinkled and there was a light aroma of perfume, liquor and sweat lingering in the air. A painful reminder that he had spent the evening with someone other then Watson. The notion he wasn't waking up to find John was unbelievable horrible, it stabbed him in the heart like a knife over and over again and with each beat of his heart more of the pain seemed to swell up. Sherlock was, in this moment imprisoned in his own mind.

He listened to the sound of someone breathing heavier, she made a slight wimper and Sherlock froze. There was a woman next to him after all, this was no nightmare. The only mistake he had made since waking up was not screaming in anguish and leaving to find John.

Why had Sherlock not moved?

His heart rammed now into the walls of his ribcage, cardiac arrest was threatening his body but he still didn't move. Perhaps it was guilt, perhaps fear not even Sherlock was entirely sure. He looked down at his hands, they were shaking slightly he clenched them into fists trying to control his anxiety and all of the emotions that erupted from within his very organs.

"Good morning, handsome," a sweet soft voice pulled Sherlock from his tangled web of thoughts.

Sherlock said nothing, instead he kept his back to the woman and closed his eyes.

"I'm sorry John," he whispered.

"What did you say?" The woman giggled.

Again she was met with only silence as he sat still, holding in everything he was terrified of feeling. Sherlock hoped that this was all a dream and if he didn't move then he would wake up and find John in his arms, the way things should have been.

"Sherlock are you alright?"

This time when she was greeted with only silence she peeled herself from the sweaty, crumpled bed sheets and crawled towards her lover. She wrapped her soft, tiny hands around his shoulders and kissed them tenderly. Her lips were pure and sweet, they tickled his skin but Sherlock didn't move, didn't think he merely … was.

Taking her hands from his shoulders she put her arms around his waist and pulled him tighter, he stared ahead in a daze, lost from reality. Frustrated she kissed his neck and nibbled on his ear.

"This is a change from the man I met last night," she whispered, her hot breath on his ear sent a shiver down his spine.

"John…" he whispered.

"Irene," she replied bluntly.

"What!" Sherlock stood up in total shock and turned to stare at her.

"Yes my darling, you had me at last, are you happy about it?" she pouted, amused at his distress.

"No, no… no, no, no!" Sherlock shook his head pacing now. Completely naked, the sun shining through the cracks in the curtain illuminated off his perfectly sculpted body and made Irene beam with pleasure.

"Come back to bed my handsome detective," she swooned, enjoying his displeasure.

"This did not happen!" He bluntly replied.

"Now, now. Mummy doesn't like it when Sherlock lies," she leaned forward and grabbed his waist. Before he could say or do anything she was kissing his refined abs. Sherlock moaned, distracted by her desperate actions for pleasure.

"Irene, please. Why are you doing this I would never,-"

Angry now she cut him off, "never what Sherlock? Sleep with me? Well, now, there's no need to lie. Surely it wasn't that bad… after all you were the one doing the screaming were you not?"

He stared down at her wide eyed, mouth gaping open he could not formulate any words.

"Hush Sherlock, come back to bed. I'll remind you if you want-"

Sherlock pushed her away, "No!" he shouted.

She laughed, "No what? No you wont again or no you cant believe you did this. Because honey, you did do this, me. You did me from every angle, in every way. How could you forget? We had so much fun, all that tension, all those desires fulfilled in one evening. Come back to bed before I lose my patience or I'll –"

"What Irene? What could you possibly do to hurt me more?" he fell to the ground, sitting on the floor in a heap staring up at her.

"Hurt you? Sweetie, I never laid a hand on you, well… a hand on you anywhere you didn't want. You could have said no, you didn't have to touch me or pull off my clothes; but you did." She placed a finger to her mouth and her beautiful eyes stared down at him, smiling.

"But I…"

"Sherlock, after last night you and John … you're finished."

Sherlock covered his face with his hands, she knew his intimate secrets, she had taken away the one thing he loved the most.

"It was an honest mistake …" he mumbled into his hands wishing for darkness, praying for all of this to stop. Hoping with every fibre of his being that this would all go away. John would never forgive him for this and Sherlock knew it.


End file.
